Harry Potter and Godric's Heir
by desktopdrummer22
Summary: Join Daniel Wilks as he discovers his true destiny, and with some help from The Boy Who Lived, he might just survive. Follows JKs plot line as closely as possible. Fist Chapter complete. T for upcoming themes.


**So, this is my first fiction, so please forgive me if I don't know what I'm doing. I love write stories and figured this would be a good way to express it. Please enjoy, criticism is well appreciated, and review if you feel like it.**

**I don't own any characters in this story that you might recognize from somewhere else (mostly Harry Potter, copyright to J.K. Rowling).**

Hermione Granger walked through the park in a foul temper. She wrapped her coat tighter around her as the chilly January air picked up and send a shiver down her arms. Her bushy brown hair seemed to flow behind her as the wind caught it. The effect turned many head, both male and female, but Hermione was too wrapped up in her grumpy mood to take note of the fact that she was giving off the apparatus of a super model. In fact, if that is what you guessed her profession was, you could not have been farther from the correct answer. And Hermione was someone who knew a thing or two about correct answers. After all, she was the brightest witch the world had ever known. By witch, we are not referring to your standard fairy tale witch with the warts and the green skin and warts (the proper term being _hags_). Simply meaning magically talented, like most people she knew. However, unlike most people she knew, Hermione Granger had the unique ability to answer almost every question humanly plausible. This trait however, did nothing to raise her already dark spirits.

It didn't help that she had load of work to do and studying for her Wizarding Law Exams that were rapidly approaching. She was already under an enormous amount of stress from bosses and family to uphold her already high standards, and after almost escaping an unusually grueling day where she had the pleasure of dealing with the stubborn wizard who insisted that the ban on dragon-breeding should be lifted, she had been handed the task of tracking down a new wizard who was ready for Hogwarts. The problem? The child is lost somewhere in the streets in London. Normally one of the Hogwarts staff would have handled this, but things were still getting back to normal in the wizarding world. Families still coming out of hiding, rouge Death Eaters still being rounded up. Oh yes, a lot had changed in three years since Voldemort had been defeated, but time still had work to do. So the Ministry of Magic (back on its feet after Fudge's blunders and a year of corruption) was lending a hand to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hermione took another look at the picture. The boy she was looking for was staring out towards the photographer, but couldn't quite see him. He had fair blue eyes, but the brownest hair had ever seen. _'He has a very handsome face for a boy his age,'_ Hermione thought. And indeed he did, which seemed to be illuminated by the faintest of smiles. What was truly remarkable was that there was no name, records of family, not a single fact on the boy. He seemed to have sprung up out of thin air and drawn the attention of the Ministry. _'He could be anywhere in this stupid city,'_ Hermione groaned inwardly. _'I could be looking for days, and by the time I've found him; he'll be weeks behind in schoolwork. And to top it off, we don't even know if he's got any magical aptitude.'_

She continued to rant inwardly as she walked onward, not even noticing an oncoming man. He looked up just in time to dodge her. He moved to the side to avoid her, not wanting to cause any trouble to the young lady. But what he saw next could not have surprised him more. As she passed him, he glanced back at what the young girl was holding: a picture of a young lad. Then his jaw sank.

The boy in the picture reached up and scratched the back of his head.

Daniel Wilks sat up in his bed, screaming quite loudly as he did. His body was trembling, beads of sweat sliding down his face, his hair disheveled and slick with perspiration. He slowly attempted to regain his composure. He was looked around the room. It was at this moment that he realized that he was, in fact, in a bed in a room instead of where he collapsed on the street. 'Someone must have taken pity on me and taken me in,' he thought. He didn't dare make a sound yet, not knowing whose home this was. Then he reconsidered, remembering the loud scream he had produced. He thought long and hard and concluded that the best decision was not to remain in the vicinity for much longer. The owner of this apartment (as it appeared to be upon further inspection) could very well have abducted him for... other purposes. As he flung the covers off of him, he realized that he was fully clothed, even his shoes had been left on his feet.

It was at this moment that he remembered why he had collapsed in the first place. He hadn't eaten in days, maybe a week. He felt faint, ready to pass out again. But he couldn't pay attention to that at the moment, he needed to get away from this place. Even if the person were hospitable he wouldn't want to be a burden. But his stomach had other ideas. It gave a loud rumbling noise as if to command its host to find the nearest kitchen. Almost unconsciously, Daniel obeyed the growling monster, and as he rummaged through pantries, his belly vaguely reminded him of a growling lion.

He tried to keep his mind off what he had seen by biting into and apple and holding it with his teeth while he continued to search for nourishment. His mind began to stray, however, and found its way back to the nasty dream he had just been forced to live through. 'Every time I close my eyes,' Daniel thought. Then he stopped and remembered once again, the most horrifying image.

"Eyes..." Daniel trailed off. It had been the very thing that had jolted him awake. A pair of piercing eyes, but these eyes were different, they were... bewitched. Bewitched. It was the only word appropriate for them. They almost seemed to be as powerful as they were frightening. It wasn't the way they looked at him with. In fact it appeared to be nothing more than a blank stare. It was the color scheme. For where there should have been dark pupils, there was milky whiteness. And where normally there would have been white, was the deepest of blacks. Daniel could not see the owner, but he presumed that this was not someone to trifle with.

The door swung open with a creaking sound. Daniel whirled around, trying not to drop the arm full of provisions he collected. In the door way stood a young man, with a face full of freckles and a head of bight red hair. He gave a little look around the room, first at the bed where Daniel had been sleeping, and after discovering that no one was there, looked up into the kitchen.

"Oh, you're up. 'Bout time too...I though' you were in real trouble. Well, don't just stand there and stare like a troll. You've got enough food to put some meat on those bones."

Daniel just stared. He was practically robbing this man, and he was receiving encouragement to continue. "I'm sorry," he began, feeling guiltier by the minute, "I... I was just-"

"Hungry, yeah I know. Your stomach kindly reminded me every hour or so. I was starting to wonder if you'd ever wake up."

"Sorry," Daniel blurted out. He didn't mean to steal. It had been an impulse. "I only-"

"Nothing to worry about, mate, nothing at all. 'Ts not your fault you dropped right in front of me. But I couldn't just bloody well leave you there, now could I? Just didn't' seem right. I can tell you, you would have been a human doormat. Name's Ron by the way. Ron Weasley" He held out a hand, and Daniel shook it cautiously before answering,

"I'm Daniel. Daniel Wilks." He couldn't look at this man, the man who had probably saved him. He turned his head away, feeling ashamed of trying to poach food from him. Ron walked towards the kitchen. "Lets see if we can't find something half decent to eat," he muttered to himself. Daniel took a look down at the apple. Even he had to admit, this was pretty pathetic, even for him. He walked into the kitchen slowly, watching Ron pull ingredients and cooking tools from pantry shelves. He hesitated for a moment, and then spoke.

"How long was I out?" He tried to find his voice, so as not to appear weak in front of a total stranger.

"Four days. Blimey, you must be the hungriest bloke there ever was. Well, except Marvin Soknal. Went years, without so much as a bite."

Daniel stared, then decided not to ask anything further on the topic. He still felt dizzy. He said, "I'm gonna lie down."

"Alright, make your self at home then. Food will be ready shortly. Oh! Almost forgot," and started to rummage through draws for something, finally pulling out a pen and paper. "For my, er, roommate," he stated, "So she knows your coming and won't flip out and curse you." He chuckled this last part but Daniel's better judgment sensed something not entirely humorous about it.

"Thank you, Mr. Wesley," Daniel said.

"Call me Ron, Mr. Weasley is my dad." He laughed lightly, "Although there about seven Mr. Weasley's by now..."

Daniel walked back into the main room and finally took a good look around. There was quite a lot of old furniture arranged to facing an old television set. There were vacant canvas paintings hanging from the walls. They almost seemed to be waiting for their respective owners to return. The couch had folded out into the bed he had woken up in. On the coffee table sat a number of odd things; there were books of unusual size, shape and texture; a number of odd looking contraptions were scattered on the surface, appearing ready to attack should he move to suddenly; there was a glass spinning top, lying still at the moment. But most curious of all, sitting unusually aloof, was a long, pointed, purple hat with a large W embroidered in gold.

Daniel turned and said, "Did you say what your job was?"

"No, I didn't," Ron called from the kitchen, and just as Daniel turned to return to the bed, he could have sworn he saw a plate float out of the cabinet and out of sight.

Mistaking it for exhaustion, he flopped on to the bed and drifted off, dreaming of spinning tops, flying silver ware, and mysterious white eyes.


End file.
